


In Steady Moments Now

by fastwalkrevival



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fastwalkrevival/pseuds/fastwalkrevival
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second time around, they do things right and proper and slow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Steady Moments Now

Let it begin - 

In the darkness at first, with her hands on your hips, her eyes meeting yours. This is about trust, rebuilding. She does not rush you, or set a pace to what this - whatever you two - are now. Something has changed in the energy shared, it is not about sex and fire and showing off. No longer is it about crashing through walls and seeing the vulnerabilities in stark contrast with who you both pretend to be. 

No, this is slow, with hesitations and awkward silences broken by reassuring touches. The moment is not marked when her fingers skim the hem of your shirt, asking without words if she may - if you will allow her - to pull it off. You raise your arms, a surrender to her, and she pulls the shirt off, breathless in the dark as she takes you in. 

Goosebumps follow her fingers as they trace down your ribs, settling again on your hipbones and when you look up at her, her eyes are wide and dark and endless. You can see her swallows hard, biting her lip, down on her neck her pulse is fluttering against her neck. It is rabbit fast and that, above all, betrays what Lexa is feeling in this moment. 

Slowly, watching her eyes follow your hands, you move to her side, to the taught laces on her shirt. You press a kiss to them, her hands start to curl into fists and you step back.  _No_  she says quietly, reaching back for you, pulling you close again,  _keep going_. 

You do not question, instead hearing how much she wants this in her voice, in the way she's almost pleading with her instincts. Her guard is still raised, you know this now and you also know, as you undo the binds of her shirt, that she never truly relaxed around you. Her guard has always been up, to the world, to her people, to you. 

She shivers as her shirt drops to the floor from your fingers, you cover the space between your bodies easily, wrapping an arm around her waist. Again, even here, you pause, letting her process what you're doing, where you are in relation to her. Only when she presses herself against you, into you, absorbing your warmth, do you let your other arm wrap around her waist. 

Lexa lets out the smallest of breaths and you kiss the curve of her shoulder, her neck, the edge of her jaw as she turns her head towards you. She is shaking in your arms, and although you know this is not her first time, not even her first time with you, maybe in other more complicated ways, it is. 

_Clarke_  she says quietly, her voice a thready whisper in the dark  _I - I am not ready_. 

You want to stiffen, to let your own walls come up, but this will not work if you abandon your promise. She turns in your arms and looks up at you with fear, earnest fear, flickering in her eyes. Your hands move to hers, lacing her fingers with yours _That's okay_  you tell her, and tell her again, and again, soothing her as you move to the bed, no more undressed then your shirts shed on the floor. 

_This_  you tell her, once the covers have been pulled up to ears and her body is pressed against yours, hands, legs intertwined,  _this is perfect_. 

She does not believe you, but you believe yourself, and holding her to you, you do your best to distract her. Even though you can feel her heart aching against her ribs, her hands curl into yours and you know she is fighting herself, willing herself to be able to do this properly. You kiss her shoulder, _we have time_  you say into the darkness, so quietly she only hears because your lips flutter against the shell of her ear _for us, for this._

It's not a lie, not in the sense that it is not true, but the time that you speak of is fleeting and often cut short, taken away or missed all together. Those nights you spend alone on your own furs under the canopy of the forest, that is when you miss her the most and cast your thoughts back to these nows, these nights that stretch endless and perfect before you. Her body against yours, walls up, but softening edges, slowly coming down, the both of you really, one step at a time.  

 


End file.
